


I'm going back to 505 (if it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive)

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Background Femslash, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Im. Super late, It's saimami week baby, M/M, Mental Breakdown, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Post-Canon, Saimami Week 2018, Spoilers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Ultimate Talent Development Plan (Dangan Ronpa), Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: A knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the markFrightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the barkMiddle of adventure, such a perfect place to startIm so late but happy saimami week





	1. // traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami and saihara decide to go on a trip.

Saihara shifted, bitting his nails. Team danganronpa had cleared him as stable. He wanted to scoff at that—as if, after so many of his friends died—but held it in, smiling politely when all he wanted was to scowl and tell their stupid therapist for their stupid game to fuck off. He didn't, of course, didn't dare even breathe around them, fear rooting his eyes wide. These were them, these were the people who caused him so much pain, so much grief.

(He won't say despair. He just  _won't_.)

If he talked, he's afraid he'd say something he'd regret.

Or that he won't.

He's not sure which scares him more.

Kaede had already left, not even sparing a glance. Doing everything in her power to not look at him. It hurt, it stung, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. There never was.

(He couldn't do anything for her, not when she cried and cried and shouted at the last trial, bitterness and anger like he never heard from her before, his attempts at calming her down only making her more upset.)

He couldn't tell if it was from guilt or shame, that she avoided him. He couldn't tell if she felt bad about what she said, in the wake of her girlfriends death, couldn't tell if the bags under her eyes were from staying up thinking about him or her, couldn't tell if her puffy red eyes had any correlation.

( _I wish you died instead of her._ )

Once she left, it was just him and amami. Just him and tears and screaming and wishes and the memory of death.

(please don't leave me. please don't sign up for another season.)

He couldn't sleep alone. The nightmares would wake him up with a startled, hyperventilation bringing tear into his eyes. Or maybe that was the image of kaitos limp body, maybe it was angies lifeless face, maybe it was Tenko tears as she pleaded with them to believe it was just an accident, an accident, she'd never hurt himiko on purpose, _please._

Either way he woke up gasping all the same.

When this would happen, he'd feel Amamis arms wrap around him, pull him close in a hug he didn't want to let go of. And when amami woke up trembling with a foreign name on his lips, he did the same.

 

 

"They're not real," the knife is clacking against his bracelets, his hands shaking so badly it was autoable. "My sisters aren't _real_."

Saihara looked up towards him, pausing his cooking, eyes widening. He started aprotching, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice, "Amami, put down the knife."

He blinked, as if he was just now aware of the knife he was previously cutting tomatoes with. Slowly, shakily, he forced his white knuckled fingers off of it, setting it down as if it was a live bomb. It may have well been.

He colasped, legs like jelly. Saihara rushed forward to catch him, stumbling at the weight. He was blinking, trying to keep the tears in, trying to focus his dead-fish eyes. Saihara could feel his trembling against him, a shaky motion that the former didnt seem to notice, to focused on trying to just _see_. "Nothings real," there was a hint of hysteria, "whats the point if _none of it was fucking real-"_

There's tears flowing down his face now, hands bunched up in his avacodo green hair, pulling and tugging. Saihara could see the evidence of brown roots, from this possition, and he wonders why he never noticed it before, during the game—didnt notice the _fakeness_ of it all, artifical. He doesnt know what to do, as he holds him, as he breaks down.

Saihara never really knew what to do.

 

 

The pills they give them taste bitter, and chalk like. They go down his throat like words unsaid, the side effects making his eye lids want to close. Foggy brained and droozy, unable to think clearly like the detective he was supposed to be. The therapists here just assigned them it, fake smiles as they said it would help, when all it did was make it all so much worse, under a hazey unfeeling daze. They didnt bother to do anything else, just enough that the public would let fly. Enough for them to think they were took cared of. The sugary sweet voice the therapist talked in grated on saiharas nerves, anyways, like nails on a chalkboard. It made him grind his teeth and resist the urge to scream in her face, that he wasnt some broken child or wounded puppy, that she could stop faking her over-sweetened false kindness because they all knew she was only here for a paycheck, not because she actually cared. 

Saihara flushed his pills down the toilet just to spite her.

(He buys a pack of cigarettes instead, the kind that burns his lungs and makes him wrinkle up his nose in disgust. Somehow, it feels familar, it feels right.)

(Not for the first time, he wonders what he was like before dnaganronpa came along, and wrote him into who he was today.)

(A part of him hates that everything he is is because of them. He takes another drag of smoke, self destructing.)

 

 

"We should leave." He speaks without really processing, and amamis knitting stills. He swallows a lump in his dry throat, painful and raw, "we should go somewhere."

He looks towards him, green eyes latching onto blue. Like the sky and earth, like oceans or creeks rushing up to meet the grass. His lips are dry, and he bites on them, toying with the idea.

"Where would we go?"

Saihara reaches for a hat that isnt there, "Anywhere."

The _but here_ goes unsaid. Somehow, amami understands anyway. He nods mutely.

 

 

Theyre packed by sunset, waiting for when all of the staff is asleep. It reminds saihara of the promise he made, to amami, to travel around the world and help find his sisters. Its a promise he can't keep. He holds amamis hands reassuringly, knowing hes thinking of the same thing. 

He thinks, that maybe, maybe, if they walk out this door, they could leave it all behind. Could say goodbye to the fiction in their veins, to danganronpa.

(They know they can't.)

They take a breathe, and walk out of the door, traveling outside of the haze, anyways.


	2. // bonus modes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami and saihara go on a double date.
> 
> [ultimate development plan universe]

"Mikan-tan!" Tenko rushed out to met her, startling her girlfriend, before a smile light up her face, "T-tenko-chan!" 

Amami smiled, lazily following after tenko, one hand in his pocket and another in saiharas own.

Aforementioned boyfriend was fiddling with his hat, his clammy, nervous hands sweaty in his own. Amami hated the sensation, slippery and slightly sticky, but he still held on firm, smiling. Nothing in this world would make him let go, not any awkwardness or anxiety, not any of that. Because holding his hand was worth it, holding onto saihara was worth it.

This relationship was worth it.

He knew he had to let go, though, when they reached the restaurant, if only temporary. He could still feel the left over sweat from saiharas hand on his own, warth swelling in him. He knew they didnt really let go, and that their hands will fit into eachother like a jigsaw puzzle again soon, when they walk out. 

He could hear mikans stuttering at tenkos complements, her face red as she dotes on her. He chuckles low in his throat, reaching out for the door, humming to get thier attention.

"Here we are, the ice cream parlor."

He heard saihara snort, a teasing lit to his tone, "parlor? Who says that anymore?" 

Amami bumped his shoulders, a smile blooming on his face, "Says the person who calls cellphones _celliual mobile phones."_

A red tomato blush spread on his face, embarassment visualized, and he squeaked, "Im just used to saying it like that! I-its what my uncle called it!" 

Amami giggled, ruffling his hair as he held the door open. 

 

 

"I-Ill have mint chocolate chip," mikan stuttered. Amami was starting to realize that she stuttered alot, a habit born from nervousness. It explained why she and saihara were good friends, bounding over anxiety—though he still wasnt sure how kokichi managed to befriend her. Amami loved ouma, but he always thought that he and her—or people like her, nervous in a way slightly different than saihara, a sensitivity to her—would get along like oil and water, but around her his teasing softened, and her intuitive nature as a nurse made her zero in on something he couldn't see. Hes sure if he was hear, hed comment on his qpps choice of icecream, but since he isnt, the only response she gets is tenkos gushing. 

"Wow, mikan-! What an amazing choice!" Tenko smiled brightly, the lack of horfix coming out casually, and mikan blushed brightly. Amami smiled, overseeing this exchange, gentle, before glancing over to saihara. He was sticking his tongue out, eyes focusing on the options ahead of him. It was cute, how focused he was. Not for the first time, he wished that he could always focus like this, without his anxiety getting in the way. He smiled at the thought that he was getting better, a new medication and friends to lift him up. Amamis calming aura also helped, his chill vibe calming him, relaxing him—even if there was tinted lenses on his face, rose colored paranoia that only came out on a shadow on his face. He had good reasons to be paranoid, anyways.

"Tenko will have what mikans having, too!" He hears in the background, mikan countering—more confident now that she had lost herself in her and tenkos world, "I-if you g-get something else, th-though, we can share!" A smile is creeping up her face, a waxed moon, and tenko _swoons_. "You're so smart, mikan-tan!" She squeals, and mikan blushes, looking down with a small smile on her face, "w-well, i am a nurse.."

Its heartwarming to see her glance at tenko, gaudging to see if she should panic, stutter out apologies for whatever shes afraid shes done wrong, before seeing her beaming smile, as she still fauns, "Yes!! Mikan-tans the cutest nurse!!" 

After that, tenko orders herself the watermelon, breifly debating strawberry and cherry before mikans shy admittance that she never had watermelon before. Amami himself gets birthday cake, investing in something less fruity than he normal would get. He debated some with the lemon, but decided that it was always good to switch it up.

His hands reach for saihara as he orders, too, offering courage. Saihara only stutters once, when ordering his own chocolate icecream—a classic, old but always good.

The smile saihara sends him makes the butterflies in his stomach lurge. Their hands still fitting like a jizzsaw puzzle.


End file.
